Holmesians We Have Heard on High
by Wordwielder
Summary: Prompts for Hades' 2017 December Calendar!
1. Mistletoe

**1\. From Book girl fan - mistletoe**

When I arrived at 221B Baker St, Mrs Hudson barely stuck her head out and murmured a hello before disappearing back into her rooms. Disconcerted but unwilling to enter her rooms without being invited, I continued upstairs and found the man who had sent for me buried under a mound of papers.

"I see you've been keeping it orderly around here since I left," I said dryly. Holmes blew out a breath of smoke and answered, cheerfully, "Watson! I am glad you've come. I have a client who promises to bring with her a most fascinating tale of a cursed ruby coming in an hour. I thought we could take tea until then."

"Do you have the materials?" I frowned. "Mrs. Hudson scurried away like a mouse when I arrived."

"Oh, is she still hiding?" Holmes said with an amused smirk.

"It seems I've missed an important household development."

"Oh, not so. It's a trifle, really, but nevertheless, amusing in its own way." Holmes chuckled. "Did you notice the mistletoe over our door?"

"I did."

"Well, yesterday my brother stopped by our stoop for a moment. The mistletoe is the work of the Irregulars, they're feeling festive, and I haven't discouraged them yet. Well, some of them happened to be making a report, and when Mrs. Hudson answered the door, I'm afraid they insisted on the tradition. The poor woman and my brother both emerged from a peck on the cheek much affected, and she's been hiding for much of the last day."

"And Mycroft?"

"Oh, he made a hasty retreat."

"Perhaps love is in the air," I teased.

Holmes scoffed. "Be careful on the stoop. The children are always watching, it seems. They nearly got me with a young caroler the other day."

"I'll have to keep Mary on hand," I agreed.

 **Hey guys! Sorry to be starting so late this year, but I'm going to get caught up when I can!**


	2. Gods

**From Hades Lord of the Dead - Holmes gets a case from a mythical God[ess].**

As a child, Holmes had been fascinated by the myths of antiquity. He had devoured all the books in his family's library on the subject, and then the all the others about Greek life. But he'd never expected to have one in his sitting room.

"Er, Ma'am," Holmes said uncomfortably. "Even if I take what you say to heart…"

"I thought I had proven my title," she said, glaring from behind her scarf, gesturing to the the tree she had caused to sprout from his floor.

"If I take it to heart," Holmes repeatedly doggedly. "What do you expect me to do?

"I have heard you are the best," she said.

"Ma'am," Holmes said. "The… story…is that your daughter disappears in the fall and winter and returns to you in the spring and summer. Why do you think she's missing now, in December?"

"Well, I received a very angry visit from that husband of hers, who seemed to think I had her hidden under my skirts. And if she's not with me, and not with him, where could she be?"/

"Well, Ma'am if neither you nor Hades could find her, I don't see what I-"

"I think you can help an ear on an Earth while I scour the heavens and Hades scours the Underworld," she insisted. "Do not underestimate yourself, Mr. Holmes, and certainly do not underestimate _me_."

Holmes sank into his chair. "Very well, I…I'll start searching…"

The goddess nodded, and vanished before he could react, leaving behind the subtle scent of springtime.

 **Hey guys! Sometimes glitches to include crypto text, that happened when I finish uploaded this chapter. Should be fixed now!**


	3. Socks

**From Book girl fan - "I'm going through all your rooms, stealing one sock from each pair."**

 **(a goofy, silly response)**

"I think you're overreacting," Watson said.

"You haven't been here," Holmes protested.

"I think you just dislike Mrs. Hudson being on vacation. Mrs. Turner is a perfectly fine housekeeper. It's not like she's sneaking through the house in the dead of night, whispering to herself, 'I'm going through all your rooms, stealing a sock from each pair.'"

"I have had some socks go missing," Holmes said.

"She's washing them," Watson said, exasperated. "Mrs. Hudson will be back in three days. Behave yourself in the meantime."

Holmes picked up a beaker and ignored him.


	4. Shinwell Johnson

**From cjnwriter: An unexpected character saves the day.**

Shinwell Johnson had proven invaluable to me on numerous occasions. He came to me with information, and I used it accordingly. We met in shady bars and street corners, and I saw him only occasionally.

Imagine my surprise when I saw Shinwell as I found myself in hot water in a seedy bar by the docks, preparing to dodge the blows of an over-excited drunkard who had not liked my questions about his wife. I was reaching for my stick, ready to clobber the msn over the head, when a voice yelled, "Oy!"

The man whirled around, and Shinwell punched him in the jaw. While he was distracted, I ducked under his arm and held my stick up to his throat.

"I suggest you take yourself home."

The man swore and staggered off, and I turned to Shinwell. "I would've handled it, but thank you for the assistance," I said.

He looked round furtively. "I should be off. I hope no one's _here._ "

I knew exactly the risks of such a reveal, so I nodded and tidied my collar, and set off briskly to search for my next steps.


	5. Toby

**5\. From cjnwriter - A time for Toby to shine**

Awake.

Man voice. Breakfast. Gravy over scraps. Smells good. Tastes good, too.

Sleep. Rest. Smell of other dogs. A new pup, small, nervous. Wish for tall man and doctor so he can run.

Eat. More scraps, less gravy.

Tall Man and Doctor show up after. Scrap of fabric to smell. Child-smell, oil, faint flowers, cat?, paint.

Wag tail. Ready to run.

Cage open. Leash in Tall Man's hand. Freedom. Run, run, chase smell. The docks. A cargo hold. Child-smell stronger. Tongue out, lick child. Tear-scent.

Pat. "Good job, Toby. Good boy." Tail wag.


	6. Favorite Pet

**From I'm Nova - Favourite pet**

Watson dashed up the stairs of 221B like a man possessed. "Holmes," he called. Holmes put down his newspaper and raised his eyebrows at his ruffled friend.

"Yes?"

"We have a client," Watson said. "She's waiting downstairs. It's urgent."

Holmes stood to follow Watson. "Very well. I have nothing else on."

The client was a small girl, about five. Her face was tear-streaked. Holmes cast a quizzical look at Watson.

"This is Violet. Now, tell Mr. Holmes about Marjorie," Watson said encouragingly.

"Marjorie's missing," the little girl hiccuped.

"When did you last see her?" Holmes asked. A missing persons would be an excellent stimulant before the holidays.

"Two days ago, when I put her out," Violet said. "She always comes back for suppertime. I'm worried someone got her." She started crying anew. Watson patted her back and cast a somewhat apologetic look at Holmes. "Violet and I have already looked all up and down the Strand. I thought we could call together the Irregulars and form a search party. You know it's been so cold these past few days."

"Please," Violet begged. "Dr. Watson said you're so smart you might be able to find her."

"Very well," Holmes sighed. "I shall summon the Irregulars. In the meantime, ask Mrs. Hudson for some cocoa for Miss Violet, and I will ask you some questions about Marjorie's…patterns of behavior."

"Thank you," Watson mouthed over Violet's head.


	7. Blunder

**From Winter Winks 221 - Holmes blunders a case.**

"The translation," Holmes gasped suddenly. I had finished typing up my notes an hour previous, and had been drifting toward sleep, lulled by the fire's crackling and the warmth of the wine I'd sipped while I worked.

"Hmm?" I said. Holmes looked stricken. "I've made a terrible mistake, old friend," he said. "I mistranslated the text. The parchment— I failed to realize it'd been stored by water— my age assessment is off— I used the wrong runes for the era—" He was up and pulling on his boots before I could react. "Come, Watson, hurry—we must catch that train before the the girl applies the wrong potion and destroys the Ancient Text of Kathu forever!"

I leapt after him, sleep forgotten. The girl's train would board any moment, and we'd be too late.


	8. Pirates

**From Winter Winks 221 - Pirates**

Sherlock closed the book he was reading decisively and, dare Mycroft say, defiantly. "I want to be a pirate," he said.

Had Sherlock said this to any other relative, he'd have gotten a shocked rebuke or a joking brush-off. But Mycroft, remarkably similar to Sherlock, knew remarkably well how Sherlock thought.

"Oh?" Mycroft said.

"Did you know Blackbeard would light rope on fire and tie it to his beard in battle?"

"Fascinating," Mycroft said, who had known this fact for several years. "You know, pirates changed their names so they wouldn't shame their families," Mycroft said. "What might you be named, little brother?"

"Redbeard," Sherlock said. Mycroft suppressed a smile. Sherlock was neither red-haired or bearded, but he was very sensitive, and would dislike any sign Mycroft was not taking him seriously.

"Indeed." Mycroft sat in the chair by Sherlock, keeping his gaze out the window.

"He got married in high society in South Carolina, but he got bored and started pirating again," Sherlock said. "He died at sea."

"Would this sudden interest in piracy have anything to do with the Christmas Eve Ball?"

Sherlock glowered. "I don't see why mother and father are making me go."

"They'll let you retire early," Mycroft reassured. "And they're making me go, too. I know it'll be frightfully boring, but I'm afraid you're much too young to start pirating yet.

"But…" Sherlock protested. His gaze dropped to the heavy book on his lap.

"What if we played the game, hmm? Let's see how many affairs we can spot."

"I'll spot the most," Sherlock said.

"Well, little brother, you should practice your waltz, then," Mycroft said. "However else will you be able to see their handkerchiefs up close?"


	9. The Kitchen

**From cjnwriter - What's Holmes doing in the kitchen this time?**

When Mrs. Hudson was roused by a loud clang from the kitchen, around six A.M., she threw on her dressing gown and slippers as quickly as she could and burst into the room, ready to catch one of her tenants getting into mischief.

"What on earth-" was already on her lips, but the kitchen was clean and quiet. A single candle illuminated the counter, clean as she'd left it, and a sink of new dishes soaking. A small plate of muffins and cup of tea sat ready, still warm. The clank must've been the door to the kitchen swinging shut. A small note, written in Holmes' tidy handwriting said, "Will be away for the duration of the weekend. Have a fine break during that period. SH."

Mrs. Hudson smiled and took a sip of the tea- just as she liked it.


	10. Peppermint

**From I'm Nova- Peppermint**

Mary took a deep sip of the peppermint tea Mrs. Hudson had given her. "This is lovely, thank you," she said.

"No problem, dear," Mrs. Hudson said, sipping at her own cup. "I'm afraid I don't know when your fiancee will return."

"No trouble," Mary said cheerfully. "I have the rest of the afternoon off, and your company is delightful, Mrs. Hudson."

"Oh," Mrs. Hudson blushed. "Thank you. How are your wedding preparations?"

"Oh, they're nearly done. Finishing touches, really," Mary replied. "I am a bit nervous, though, for the wedding."

"For the wedding or the marriage?" Mrs. Hudson said slyly.

"Both," Mary laughed.

"Oh, the wedding won't be anything," Mrs. Hudson said reassuringly. "The marriage, well, that depends."

"Any advice?"

Mrs. Hudson looked out her window. "Know when you're wrong, and when you're right, and only compromise when you're a little of both."

"Thank you," Mary said softly. "Were you married?"

"I was," Mrs. Hudson said. "For a time."

Mary considered whether she ought to ask, but at that moment, the door jangled, and voices entered the parlor. Mrs. Hudson smiled, and stood to ask her inhabitants whether they'd like some tea too.


	11. Elves

**From Hades Lord of the Dead - Santa's chief elf brings Holmes a case of vital importance.**

"I do hope I haven't arrived too late," the elf said.

"I keep odd hours," Holmes said.

"Oh, I know," the elf said. "Mr. Claus said as much."

Holmes tried to keep his face impassive. The elf smiled. "I know you're trying to chalk this up to a fever dream, but I appreciate how seriously you are attending to the matter at hand."

"Please elucidate further on said matter," Holmes said, relieved have something familiar to focus on.

"Well, only the Clauses themselves have access to Santa's office," the elf said. "It's a sanctuary for him, and where he keeps the important documents of the trade. Well, last night, while on patrols, I was stopped by Mr. Claus, who notified me that the naughty and nice lists had been taken."

"And only Mr. Claus and his wife had access to the room in the past few days?"

"Well, the most senior elves are occasionally asked to fetch something from the office for Mr. Claus, he himself gives them the key, and then they return it immediately. He'd know right away if a list went missing after such an errand."

"I need to see the office," Holmes said. "Permit me to grab a more substantial coat and put on boots."


	12. Father Christmas

**From Hades Lord of the Dead - Mycroft moonlights as Father Christmas.**

Sometimes being the British government meant going beyond the administrative and doing one's duty in a less standard manner. So Mycroft Holmes thought as he adjusted the hat on his head and jostled his belly into place. He hoped his face was soft and friendly enough to pass for Father Christmas. The years had softened him some, surely.

The war had drained the spirits of many in the government, Mycroft included. The casualties haunted him, as did a persistent fear that he'd receive a report for Dr. J.H. Watson, killed in action. Sherlock's letters never failed to include a reverent line for his friend's plight. Mycroft intended to visit his brother briefly on Christmas Day and assess his spirits for himself. A return from fieldwork to quiet solitude affected men strangely at times, and his brother no doubt found himself missing both excitement and companionship.

But before that errand, Mycroft had another. He consulted his list. Before the night was out, he intended to be caught as Father Christmas no less than twenty-two times.

* * *

Mycroft had received word a day previous of twenty-two men killed in a skirmish in Italy. These men had been good soldiers with excellent careers. They had been ensured that their risk was minimum, and it ought to have been, but for a series of coincidences that led to an ambush of enemy men. All these men had had children, and hopes to be home for Christmas.

Mycroft, 67 years old and resolutely logical, had wept as he read the report, and then resolved that as these children's lives crashed around them to try and ease some of the damage.

His route was mapped. His bag of toys was packed. He had spoken to the widows and asked them to leave their doors unlocked. He had 48 children's spirits to lift, and a long night ahead.

* * *

The routine was simple. He would slip in, and walk as loudly in his boots as he could. He spared no noise in placing presents and filling stockings. if necessary, he let out a resounding ho ho ho. Inevitably, children's steps raced forward, and they peered around corners, and gasped.

They asked if it was really him. He affirmed. They asked endless questions. Many told him about their lost fathers.

"I know it will be difficult this year," he said, kneeling to see their glistening eyes. "But try and enjoy the day, dears. Your father would want that for you."

He finished his rounds in the early morning, and returned to his office with an empty bag and a simultaneously lighter and heavier spirit. Presents would be unwrapped soon. He closed his eyes, still in his suit, and slept.


	13. Deck the halls

**From Book girl fan - Deck the halls**

"Ow," Wiggins hissed.

Susie looked up from her popcorn string. "Wot?"

"Nuthin'," Wiggins said, sucking the pinprick of blood off his finger from here the needle had jabbed him.

"I'm almost done," Susie said proudly, holding up her garland. "I'm going to hang it over Ma's bed."

"I'm sure she'll love it, Sue," Wiggins said.

"And you're getting the tree?"

"'Course. Me and the boys'll have it here tonight, so you best keep making these strings."

"And tinsel?"

"Tinsel, yeah," Wiggins agreed, thinking he'd have to beg some off of Mrs. Hudson. "We'll deck the halls right this year." He leaned over to kiss the top of Susie's head. "I'll be back in a couple hours. Ma's sleeping, so be quiet, alright?"

"I will," Susie said.

"There's soup for dinner."

"Okay."

"Remember Santa's watching."

"Okay!" Susie laughed as he slipped out the door. Santa was bringing an orange this year, and if Wiggins could manage it, a candy cane.


	14. Wedding Bells

**14\. Winter Winks 221 - Wedding Bells**

 _(timeline from a source that suggests Watson proposed in September 1887, and married Mary in Winter 1888, presumably February.)_

John sat peacefully beside Mary in the pews. She'd managed to befriend some other young governesses in her time back in London, and today, one of them, Anna, was being joined with her fellow in the bonds of holy matrimony.

She took John's hand and squeezed it. He squeezed back. Anna had chosen the day after Christmas to get married, and the church still held decorations from last's night mass.

She did her best to focus on the ceremony, Anna's beautiful smile, the voice of the Father echoing. But occasionally, her mind wandered from today's ceremony to the one taking place on February 1st. She knew John was thinking the same thing when their eyes met.

The wedding bells tolled as Anna and her new husband left the church. Their peals lingered in the cold air, clear and true. Mary and John stood hand and hand and cheered with the others over the sound, hearts full.

 **(sorry for the sap)-WW**


	15. elm pipe

**15\. From I'm Nova - the Adventure of the Elm Pipe**

Lady Mireholm's Christmas Eve ball was a high-society legend. The woman in question was a French debutante who had married a dashing English lord. They made a dazzling couple: she had all the delicate beauty of her nation, and he all the sturdy handsomeness of guest list usually encompassed the finest people of both nations. Holmes and I were only to be in attendance because we had been engaged by the lady to solve a peculiar mystery.

The lady had remained cordial with many of her former suitors, many of whom frequently attended her balls. She had received a letter from one Henrie LaClaire, with whom she had had a dalliance in her early adolescence, but whom she hadn't seen since. They had only communicated through written letters. LaClaire was a workingman, and so they had both known a marriage was not possible. LaClaire would be in England over the holiday season, and had heard about his former paramour's festivities. "If it would not be a nuisance, I should love to attend and see you in the fine life you have found," he wrote. The Lady had agreed, eager to see her old friend. He arrived three days before the ball, and the Lady had come to us yesterday.

"I'm afraid I have nothing but a feeling," she confessed. "But I am almost certain he is not Henrie at all."

"And why do you think so?"

"Well, he looks like him, and he speaks like him, and he knows all the things Henrie should know," she said. "But it's his pipe."

Holmes leaned forward, his interest piqued. "His pipe?"

"It's..wrong," she said uncomfortably. "Henrie is a smoking enthusiast. He's always been peculiar about his pipes. He has explained in great detail to me before which materials are the best and why he prefers them. He's always favored _bruyère-_ my apologies, briar wood. And then he comes to my home, and starts smoking a pipe he says is made of elm. I know I must sound foolish, but I just have a premonition it's not my old friend."

"You are not foolish," Holmes said. "An elm pipe is an unusual choice-the wood is softer than other hardwoods like oak...and if this man is a connoisseur, he'd know as much. Well, Madame, I cannot say if some evil is afoot, but I am happy to determine if it is so."


	16. Christmas with the Watsons

**From Hades Lord of the Dead - Christmas with the Watsons (please feel free to explore an AU where Watson has a child who Holmes gets to meet, because that would be ridiculously cute!)**

Watson, true to character, had invited me to spend Christmas and New Year's with his small family. "You can't say it's far," he wrote, and I had to smile. Watson and his new wife Ada had taken rooms on Queen Anne's street, a jaunty walk from Baker Street. "I won't have you sitting in piles of papers alone all day." I sent back a reply in the affirmative.

I arrived on Christmas Eve with baked goods from Mrs. Hudson in hand. The serving girl answered the door and directed me to the study, where Ada sat in her an armchair knitting and Watson was on the floor with the baby. I had met William upon his birth, but had not seen him for a month; he had grown enormously.

"Holmes!" Watson exclaimed. He scooped his son up and strode to embrace me. "It's wonderful to see you."

"And you," I replied. "Hello, Ada."

"Hello, Mr. Holmes," she smiled. "I'd come to greet you, but William and I had a tumultuous night, and he seems to have recovered better than I."

"Do not trouble yourself," I said. Watson bounced William, just three months old, who had his fist in his mouth. "He's a bit of a troublemaker," Watson grinned. "He's working at crawling, but not just yet."

"I can't imagine how we'll keep up once he does," Ada laughed. "Bring me him, John, I want to give him a kiss."

"Please sit, Holmes, let me mix you a drink," Watson said as he handed over the baby. William made a loud noise, and both his parents laughed. "He'll talk early, I'm sure," Watson said. "He babbles all day." He handed me an ale and sat beside me.

"Dinner will be glorious," Holmes said. "Ada and Lily have been working at it all day. Mrs. Hudson would be proud. She's in Scotland?"

"Visiting her sister," I confirmed.

"And the Irregulars?"

"Given their Christmas bonuses and gingerbread this morning."

"And Wiggins' police training is progressing well?"

"Astonishingly so."

"We have much to be thankful for," Watson said warmly, looking at me and then his family. He made a face at the baby.

Willam clapped his hands, and laughed, a clear, bell-like sound.

"John!" Ada shrieked.

"Ah!" Watson exclaimed, leaping up. "He's never laughed before! Oh, just for Christmas, William, eh?"

I took a sip of ale and looked upon them and the fir boughs on the mantle, and reflected on how life goes on, so often for the better.


	17. Decking the halls

**17\. From Book girl fan -Decking the halls.**

The late day sun's glow fell over the snow,

and the rooms of 221B were light by the lamplight's glow.

It had been a flurried day,

of decoration and keeping humbugs at bay.

Watson argued and cajoled,

and reminded Holmes of his soul,

and in the end, the halls were sacked to his satisfaction,

knowing that Holmes' protestations of the action

were a smokescreen to hide softness and pride,

and the old detective would sit happily with the tree by his side.

 _(I had a really similar prompt a few back, so I decided to do something a bit different with this one. -WW)_


	18. Novel idea

**18\. From Kitschgeist - A novel idea**

"I just thought it would be a novel idea to have them over here for Christmas dinner is all," said Isabelle Lestrade.

"But it's Gregson," her husband protested fiercely.

"Dear, as much as you two spat-"

"We don't _spat_ ," Lestrade mumbled.

"He is a friend to you, and I find Charlotte quite charming, and the children would love someone to play with while we prepare the meal. I just think it would be a kind gesture,"

Lestrade sighed. "I _suppose_."

"Oh, don't look so glum about it," Isabelle laughed. "I'll prepare a goose and all the best trimmings. Extend an invitation to him tomorrow."

Lestrade approached Gregson in the morning. "We'd like to invite your family to join ours for Christmas dinner," he blurted out. "Izzy is making a goose."

Gregson blinked. "Alright, I'll ask Charlotte."

"Splendid," Lestrade said. He felt rather lightheaded.

"Don't think this changes anything about the Spearman case," Gregson warned. "I'm hot on the trail."

Lestrade snorted, relieved. "I'll have it solved by closing."


	19. Madness

**19\. From Hades Lord of the Dead - The case of Colonel Warburton's madness**

"There's no doubt about it, Watson," Holmes said. "Colonel Warburton is mad."

I grimaced. "Then the papers are right?"

"It seems so. They report a most horrifying downfall of intellect and reason."

"A pity. I have admired his work greatly, and he's always been an honorable man."

"I had thought it hearsay until I read this," Holmes said, passing me a headline which read: COL. BARBERTON SELLING ESTATE, PRIZE BULLDOG, WARNS OF HAUNTINGS.

I blanched. "This is most peculiar, Holmes. The house I might be able to explain away; perhaps the Colonel has fallen into debt. But the dog I cannot."

"The dog?"

"The bulldog. He breeds them, and his price stud Beauregard brings in pounds and pounds each year in fees. Besides the monetary incentive, he loves the dog like his own child. I can't imagine what could possess him to sell it."

"I admit I had not realized the dog was worth so much," Holmes said, brows furrowed. "That does add another layer of intrigue. You know the man?"

"A bit. We have met previously and gotten along well."

"Then we shall pay him a visit, and ascertain the cause of the sudden madness the papers accuse him of." Holmes stood. "What do you know of his staff?"

"Well, he has a housekeeper and two maids under her, a cook, and a groundskeeper."

"And he's had them long?"

"I think the maids rotate out, but the other three have been with him since before his wife's passing."

"No children?"

"A daughter. Married two years ago."

"And her husband?"

"A military man. A quick-tempered fellow, but a good enough one, I'm sure."

"And what's in the Colonel's garden?" He asked suddenly.

"The usual," I answered, brows furrowed. "The only surprising things I could think would be found in his Asian herb garden. He spent some years there and grew fond of the area's flavors."

"Hmmm," Holmes said. "Firstly, I must ask the gardener about ginseng root. Write a note to the Colonel, Watson. We'll be there tonight."


	20. Toby Knows

**20\. From I'm Nova - Toby knows.**

After a chase through the streets of London that ended at 2 am, Toby the dog was led into my parlor. It was too late to return him to his kennel, and Holmes had made some excuse as to why I should keep him for the night. I made him a nest of blankets close to fire, poured some water into a saucer, and went to bed myself, satisfied by exhausted by the day's labors. I slipped into bed beside Mary, who had been battling an illness; she was pale and tired and easily nauseated. She stirred but a little, then quieted.

Mary adored Toby, and pet him endlessly. I had to smile at the sight of him flipped on his stomach, tongue lolling in bliss, as she scratched his chest and cooed to him. I doubted the dog had ever been spoiled so. Mary gave him ham and gravy for meals and wouldn't stop fussing over him. For his part, Toby seemed equally infatuated. He trotted after Mary everywhere she went, and would crawl into her lap when she sat and nose at her stomach, tail thumping.

"Oh, I am sorry to see him go," she said wistfully when Holmes came to collect him the following night. Toby whined in agreement.

"Perhaps we ought to get a puppy and make three," I suggested. Mary's expression changed minutely, but I couldn't place it.

"I do think an expansion is coming," she said. Toby looked at me like he knew something I didn't.

Holmes smiled and made his leave, and I turned to my wife, who informed me I was going to be a father.


	21. Secrets

**21\. From mrspencil - Mary's secret**

Every Christmas, Mary Morstan kept a secret. It was a harmless one, she reasoned; only she suffered.

Mary hated gingerbread with a passion.

She never refused any when the hostess insisted she take some, and she had mastered the polite expression and the emphatic, "It's delicious, thank you." She'd done it since childhood at boarding school, where she'd been taught to eat all she'd been offered; she'd done it under Mrs. Forester's employment; she'd done it at Mrs. Hudson's Christmas dinners. No one had ever noticed anything, until she was next to Mr. Holmes at one party.

"You don't have to eat it, you know," He murmured to her.

"I-"

"You don't like gingerbread. You never have. I know. Your face flickers when you eat it."

"I don't," she confessed, relieved. "But Mrs. Hudson-"

"Won't notice, with so many patrons clamoring for her food. Here, give me yours. You can have my cranberry sauce. I don't care much for it."

They did a stealthy trade and exchanged conspiratorial grins.


	22. fire

**22\. From cjnwriter - It's not quite Christmas at Baker Street without something catching on fire.**

"Damn," Watson coughed.

"Hmm," Holmes agreed, fanning the air.

"What did you set fire to in my home this time?" Mrs. Hudson said. "I will be adding this to your rent, Mr. Holmes."

"Ah, this time it was a wreath. Fortunately, it appears the wall is only slightly scorched."

" _Slightly_ scorched," Mrs. Hudson muttered.

"How on earth did you catch the wreath on fire?" Watson frowned.

"Small explosion," Holmes said. "Nothing major."

"On a happier note," Watson said. "The tree is unscathed for the first time in some years." He looked pointedly at Holmes. "I should hope it stays that way."

Mrs. Hudson stepped back from the wall, evidently satisfied that the damage was fixable. "I guess it's not quite Christmas at 221B without something catching on fire," she said. "Cocoa, anyone?" 


	23. Unexpected

**From I'm Nova - Unexpected gift**

It was only a few minutes from being Christmas morning. Holmes and I were enjoying drinks in near silence, listening to the snow-softened night outside and the sounds of the house settling. I had come to Holmes' cottage in Sussex Downs for a few days; my wife's return from Scotland, where her sister had just has her first child, had been delayed, and so I joined my old friend for the holiday.

"I received a parcel today," Holmes said, his voice echoing in the quiet.

"Oh?"

"From Wiggins."

"Wiggins!" I said in delight.

"He sent me a deerstalker. 'The illustrations always show you wearing one, but I've never seen you in one, so I thought it'd be appropriate,' he wrote." Holmes smiled. "It was unexpected, but appreciated nonetheless. You know I am very proud of him, and feel not a small bit responsible for his success. Without him catching my interest so many years ago, he may have never have been able to rise to prominence within Scotland Yard."

"Did he also enclose his announcement?" I said with a grin.

"Ah, he did. 'Mr. Arthur Wiggins and Miss Sarah Wagner announce their engagement.' I am sure he sent you the same?"

"He did. You'll come, won't you?"

"I will, if you will as well and keep an old man company."

"I will indeed, my dear Holmes."


	24. The Strand

**From I'm Nova- The Strand editor is tired.**

Theodore Simmons was exhausted.

The latest Strand had been almost all his doing. Writers had turned in late or shoddy drafts, which he'd had to fix hastily; artists had been displeased with their art and kept submitting new illustrations; his staff had been sniping at each other all week and morale was low. It was the wear of the season, no doubt. Theodore had found himself alone in the office most nights this week, arranging layouts and typesets.

He sank into his chair, ready to tackle the last story to be edited for this edition. Dr. Watson's detective stories were reader favorites, and Theodore had a love for them too. He had purposefully saved this one as a balm to his weary soul. What impossible tangle would Holmes and his trusty Boswell have to unravel next? Would Holmes be clever and witty or sullen and sharp? Would Watson find an important clue or be given a chance to shine? Theodore opened the parcel the draft was in and read the title: "THE TANNEBAUM TWIST." He leaned back, smiled, and began.


	25. Embarrassing

**From Winter Winks 221 - Mycroft does something embarrassing. Holmes laughs.**

"I don't know why you're still giggling," Mycroft griped to Sherlock.

"I'm sorry, brother mine," Sherlock chortled. "But you should've seen your face when you turned around to see the Prime Minister."

"I'm glad you're getting some mirth out of the debacle," Mycroft snapped. "To have the most important man in the British government hear me do an impression of Lord Chegworth, the man's own nephew, does not bode well for my career."

"I particularly enjoyed the donkey bray at the end of your impression," Sherlock said.

"I certainly made an ass of myself," Mycroft moaned.

"I wouldn't fear much," Sherlock said. "If the Prime Minister fires you, who will tell him what to think all day?"

"There is that," Mycroft said. "But I'll be sure to check who's near before I break out that donkey bray again."

 **Merry belated Christmas to all who celebrate!**


	26. Unlikely Team

**26\. From Kitschgeist - Unlikely team**

Moriarty looked out his window at the snow and frowned. In this weather, business would be slowed. But no matter. He had a more important task at hand.

"Come, Cloud," he said, and the small, fluffy grey cat rubbing against his ankles meowed. She followed after her master as he moved into the front room and settled in his lap when he sat in his armchair.

"We must decide what to get Moran this year," Moriarty told Cloud. "I wouldn't get him a thing if he hadn't already bought me the decorated atlas I'd been eying. I fear we are getting too close into friendship instead of a respectful working relationship."

Cloud meowed as she butted into his elbow.

"I suppose sometimes these things can't be helped," he agreed. "Heaven knows I didn't mean to befriend you, and here I am."

Cloud's tail flicked.

"Oh, don't be offended, Cloud. You know I love you."

She purred.

"Back to the matter at hand. Moran. A weapon seems so cliche. A book? No, you're right. Hm." He scratched Cloud's chin for a moment. "Gilded playing cards?" Cloud blinked in agreement. "Excellent. I'll have them delivered. Thank you, Cloud, as always."

Cloud rolled over with a demure purr, ready to switch to the more pleasant task of getting tummy scratches. Moriarty obliged.


	27. Decorating

**27\. From I'm Nova- Decorating the Flat**

"I brought some decor, brother mine," Mycroft said, gesturing to the lavender wreath he had in hand.

"Thank you," sherlock said. "I am afraid the walls are frightfully bare for the present; this move to Montague street has left me little to spend on non-necessities."

"It appears you have little enough necessities," Mycroft replied, peering around.

"But enough," Sherlock said. "I have my chemistry set and my books, a bed and lamplight, enough to afford rent for a time. I have great hope for the beginning of my work."

"Hmm," Mycroft agreed. Unlike most of the family, he had no doubt Sherlock could fashion a profitable career out of his unique talents; his only pause was Sherlock's brusqueness with other people. He feared he would earn himself a reputation that would send only the most lionhearted to his door.

"And you'll take no flat mate?"

"No need," Sherlock said dismissively. "They would only interfere with the work."

"Very well," Mycroft said, choosing not to antagonize today. "I hope your time in this place proves fruitful."

 **My apologies for how atrociously late this is- I got behind and then got into a personal funk and I had a really hard time getting inspired. But everything is done and getting posted shortly! -WW**


	28. Ruh-Roh, Rit's a Rossover

**28\. From cjnwriter - A crossover of your choice!**

"Like, this is wild, Scoob," Shaggy whispered to Scooby-Doo, who was eyeing Dr. Watson's nibbled sandwich, discarded when four American teenagers from the 1960s and their talking Great Dane had pounded on their door.

"Ri row," Scooby agreed.

"Mr. Holmes, we really hope you can figure this mystery out," Velma was saying earnestly.

"Yeah, we were trailing the Bog Man and suddenly, we were in London!" Fred said, shaking his head.

"I've always wanted to go, but not quite so strangely," Daphne said.

"I have a suspicion," Holmes replied. "Fear not, Mystery Inc. We will return you to 1969 Coolsville. I simply must determine if Wordwielder is up to the December Calendar Challenge once again."


	29. Ancestry

**29\. From Hades Lord of the Dead - We know something about Holmes ancestry, but what about Watson's?**

In 1882, Watson emerged from his room one day with a small statue in hand, which he set on the sideboard. I enquired after it—I had never seen the like of it—it was of painted stone, depicting a one-eyed old woman with blue skin and rusty teeth.

"This is Beira," Watson said, smiling indugently at her. "My mother was of old Scot descent; her people had been there since Roman times. My ancestors believed in folklore before Christianity found its way to Scotland. My mother loved the stories, and repeated them often to Hamish and I. Beira is the Queen mother of the gods. She rules over winter with an iron first. She made the mountains and the lochs, and on the longest night of winter she drinks from the Well of Youth and becomes young again as winter melts into Spring, and the Lord and Lady rule for the warm season."

"Quite a woman," I remarked.

"Certainly," he agreed. "She looks like a hag, but she can see into all the world, and she protects animals and plants during the cold months. My mother was fond of her. I had forgotten that I had this statue in my possession."

"I have not heard you speak much of Scotland," I ventured.

Watson looked thoughtful. "I have not been to Scotland for many years," he said. "Sometimes it feels like a dream when I remember the sea and the cliffs. My family and our land is no more. I am not sure whether it would soothe or grate my mind to return to see my old stomping grounds. Do you know the feeling?"

I considered the estate in York, and nodded. Watson sat, and caressed Beira's white hair, before opening his book and dissolving into his own pondering.

 **Something I love about the challenge is the way it, well, challenges me, to research and find interesting new topics. I'd never read about Scotch mythology before!**


	30. Friend in need

**30\. From Winter Winks 221 - a friend in need**

Wiggins prided himself on being a true friend. He gave all the boys his address and instructions on which window to tap on if they needed help. So when he heard the three quick taps followed by two slow taps, he slipped out of the bed he shared with his sister as quickly and quietly as he could and opened the window.

"Wot's it, Davy?" he whispered.

"Little Andy's out of a home," Davy whispered.

Wiggins considered. A lot of the Irregulars had a hard time at home, but these were the trickiest cases- Wiggins' family was scraping by most the time, too. It wasn't the same as sending for Dr. Watson or smuggling some bread to them.

"Bring 'em here," Wiggins said. "We'll work out a schedule for a bit while we save up wages for him to get a place o' his own. Tell 'em he's gotta be quiet— Ma will fuss if she knows."

Davy nodded and melted into shadows.


	31. Resolution

**31\. From Hades Lord of the Dead - Resolution.**

"It is good to be home," Watson said, laying his hand on his old friend's shoulder and casting his eyes over the room. The tree was lovely, layered in popcorn strings and twinkling with candlelight.

"I am sure," Holmes said. Watson's service had aged him beyond his sixty years. His eyes were still kind, but tired. His hands were spotted and thin-skinned, but as steady as ever. The grey creeping through his temples had spread. He had been home only a few weeks, and Holmes had been waiting with his family for his arrival. Ada and William and Anna had all wept openly as he embraced them, and Holmes had folded Watson into his arms with clear emotion. His dear friend had survived a grueling war and returned to the quiet life he deserved, his children and wife.

"I am glad it all came to a resolution before Christmas," Watson continued. "I had been afraid I would miss another Christmas at home. The food, the lights, the company. It was a most depressing prospect."

"I assure you, we are equally glad to have you home and out of danger," Holmes said softly.

"Any new resolutions for the year ahead, now that you're finished your observations of the bees and your undercover work?"

"Catch up on my reading," Holmes said. "The years 1910-1914 in literature are woefully bare in my mind. And you?"

"Rest," Watson laughed, "and hope our new peace lasts."

Holmes' mind raced forward. He feared another war would rise again within thirty years, but perhaps, with some prayer, he could be wrong, and Watson could be spared the pain of still more loss of life.

"May it be so," he said.

 **Thanks to all who read, reviewed, or participated! I look forward to it every year, and I love reading your work. Especially thank you to Hades for organizing it all! I hope everyone has a wonderful 2018.**


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